A Different Kind of Wet Dream
by Reiko Katsura
Summary: One-shot. Harry has a secret that no one knows about. He's about to be found out. HP/DM Slash. NC-17: Mature Content.


**Title: **A Different Kind of Wet Dream

**Author: **Reiko Katsura

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **NC-17

***Warnings* **This fic features extreme sexual content. Moreover, it features Watersports. If you aren't familiar with term, here are a few euphemism's that will clue you in: golden showers, piss play, leaking wands, acidic lemon juice, bodily fluid fun, yellow rain, urination games, etc. It all comes down to one guy pissing on the another and getting off on it. If this isn't your thing, then I suggest you get the hell out of here right now. The fic takes place in Harry's supposed "eighth year", so both boys are about 18/19.

**Summary: **Harry did not find the sight of Draco Malfoy pissing in the urinal beside him arousing in the least. He did not.

**Filtered Summary :** Harry has a secret that no one knows about. He's about to be found out.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement intended.

**Beta: **The amazing Songquake. She is _the _best. Praise her.

**Thanks to: **The guys at Gay_Sex_Tips who were so very accommodating and pleasant with me while I asked them a number of highly personal and awkward questions.

**Fest/Challenge: **This was written for HP_Kinkfest, the recipient being Leo_Draconis whose request was "Water Sports".

**A/N: **I never thought I'd ever write a fic featuring this particular kink, nor did I think I would enjoy it. Writing this was an experience in itself, and I'm not going to lie- I had fun with this. If you do not think you can handle this level of kink, then please leave right now. I will not take flamers telling me off because they were too stubborn to listen to my warnings, decided to read it anyways, and got seriously squicked. Now, as you should all be 17/18 and over, I'm hoping you're adult enough to know your limitations. Those who can handle this, and those who have no problem with water sports, well... I welcome you to read and enjoy this! I'd be beyond happy if you could tell me what you think, as this was a major leap for me. Happy smutty reading!

**UPDATE: **Fic revised and re-published as of August 7th, 2011.

* * *

Harry opened the door to the men's bathroom on the fourth floor and walked in. The lighting in the large room was dim as usual, something he always figured was set to provide better means of privacy for the boys who usually didn't use the stalls, much like himself. He walked further into the room, glancing at his hunched reflection in the large sink mirrors as he passed them, and towards the urinals that lined the back walls. His steps faltered as he caught sight of the back of another person.

_Malfoy_, Harry thought wearily as he moved forward. He could identify that head of blond hair from anywhere.

Harry paused just feet away from him to consider if he should leave for a while or go into a stall. In his seven years at Hogwarts, not once had they ever bumped into each other in the rest room, and Harry found himself wishing that the luck that had prevented that from happening would resurface.

Malfoy, no doubt aware that he was being watched, took that moment to crane his head backwards. His eyes widened at the sight of Harry before he schooled his expression into one of nonchalance and turned around.

Harry sighed, feeling that maybe he was a little stupid after all—though he highly doubted he was the only person in the school who would feel hesitant about pissing right next to Draco Malfoy, even if he had become a lot more subdued as a person since the end of the war— and took a spot right next to Malfoy. Malfoy, as expected, didn't so much as turn his head.

Harry took an uneasy moment before he dropped his hands and undid the button and zip to his trousers. He slipped his hands into his underwear, wrapped his hand around his cock, and—after another apprehensive moment—pulled it out.

Peeing when one was nervous was never an easy thing. It didn't help that Harry's member was a bit more stiff than was entirely comfortable, and he had to edge back a little to get into an easier position.

Harry closed his eyes and brought his head back, ready to focus all his attention on getting a flow, but paused when the sudden sound of tinkling rushed to his ears.

If he hadn't been so surprised, Harry figured that looking over at Malfoy was something that probably wouldn't have happened. The sight of Malfoy, with his eyes clenched shut and his bottom lip worried between his teeth, did something very horrible to Harry's mind. He really hadn't meant for it to happen, but somehow his eyes had strayed all the way down to Malfoy's cock—Malfoy's pale, slightly erect, _uncut _cock—and got stuck.

Malfoy was pissing. Malfoy was _pissing_. Harry could see everything far more clearly than he'd ever admit to be fortunate. Malfoy held his cock with his right hand, using the left (his forefinger in particular) to massage the underside area where the head and shaft connected. He was a bit stiff, and it was then that Harry noticed Malfoy was on his tip-toes, forcing his cock low enough to be directed at the center of the urinal wall. Droplets of piss dribbled from his slit, coming slowly at first, and then faster until a rushing sound was resonating throughout the bathroom, alarmingly sharp and stimulatingly loud.

Harry, to his utter and complete horror, was getting _aroused_. His own cock was stiffening in his hand, growing at a rate that Harry knew, in a little while, would be near impossible to direct without a promise of missing. Even so, he could not tear his eyes away from Malfoy's peeing prick, could not un-alert his ears to the sound of rushing liquid and heavy breathing. Harry startled, badly, when he felt an impossibly strong urge to step forward and wrap his hand around the center of Malfoy's cock and let him piss while he held it.

He glanced up again and, much to his mortified dismay, realized that he was being watched.

Malfoy's face was flushed; his cheeks sparkled red and his eyes were slightly glazed. His lips were parted openly enough that he could catch sight of a sliver of pink and glossy white teeth. Malfoy was looking at him in a way that Harry knew no words to describe, and it did nothing for his own stiffening arousal.

By the time Harry looked down again, Malfoy was about done, the tiniest drops of gold flitting to the white marble in a final release. He peeked up again and realized that Malfoy was staring at him. No, not at him—at his _cock_.

Harry flushed in embarrassment. His stomach felt uncomfortably tight, and the need to piss was almost painful. There was no way he'd be able to go when he was as hard as he was, however. It would be a miracle.

Malfoy's eyes traveled up to his, and then fell back down again. He made a small lean towards Harry—and Harry's breath stopped in turn—but before Harry could find out what that tiny movement had meant, the door to the bathroom slammed open, causing them both to jump.

Malfoy, far quicker that Harry would have ever been able to react, shoved his still half-hard cock back in his trousers, buttoned them up, turned around and left, pointedly looking away. Harry heard the rush of the sink at the same time of a stall being locked, and a few moments after the door to the bathroom being shut closed.

Harry closed his eyes, bowed his head, and willed his erection to go away. Every so often a question of what in the world had just happened would burst to the forefront of his mind, but Harry quickly stamped on it.

He rested both his hands flat on the walls opposite the urinal and sighed, knowing that he was going to be very late for Transfiguration.

* * *

There was something about a man whipping out his cock in public that had always fascinated Harry. It had started when Harry was a first year, and first learned that being in a boarding school meant that privacy was pretty much a whimsical dream. It had been Ron who'd been the one to reassure Harry that all blokes did it; it was common, something that wasn't even thought about. The first time Harry allowed himself to stand in front of a urinal with both friends and strangers standing by his side and managed to get a flow, he'd felt euphoric. Since then, he'd always assessed the act of pissing as ritualistic; it was a shared sacrament between men, an act of trust and camaraderie between a single species. He looked forward to the times when he had to use the bathroom, and it was only natural that he sometimes became hard in the process. After all, didn't most guys get erect when they had to piss? No one ever questioned it, so he needn't have worried about acting out.

Only, Harry _had_ begun to act out. As the school years went by, Harry's feelings about public bathroom use hadn't changed, but his interest in it had. He'd begun, to his utter confusion and embarrassment, to _look_— something that _no one_ had to tell him was abnormal. Whilst guys were perfectly entitled to whip out their pricks and piss beside one another, they were not permitted to look anywhere below shoulder level. It just wasn't done.

By anyone else but Harry, at any rate. But Harry _liked_ to look. He liked the sight of cocks squirting piss, liked the view of a man stroking himself, enjoyed the visage of a leaking head. He dreamed about it sometimes; of the smell of it, the taste of it, the feel of it on his skin and on his cock and in his mouth. Those dreams—those thoughts—frightened him. He couldn't go to Ron about that because what if that wasn't normal? What if, all along, he'd been deriving pleasure from something that wasn't meant to be gained pleasure from? What if Ron had thought him disgusting, a pervert, and refused to talk to him afterwards? What if he told their friends and Harry was ostracized and made fun of throughout the school?

So no, Harry never dared let anyone in on his secret fantasies. He kept them to himself where they were most safe, and took to sneaking glances and furtive whiffs when he could. For the sake of having friends he knew that, until he was out of school, it would have to do.

It would have to.

* * *

Harry was fucked. He was royally, splendidly, agonizingly fucked.

He couldn't, for the sheer life of him, get Draco Malfoy out of his head. No, he couldn't get Draco Malfoy's _cock_ out of his head. For the entire two weeks since the "incident", Harry had taken to following Malfoy everywhere with his eyes. His friends had questioned him about his sudden interest in Malfoy many times, and each time he told them that he was making sure he didn't do anything funny. After the events that happened in sixth year, both Hermione and Ron kept from arguing with him (since, after all, he'd been right at the time in his assumption that Malfoy had been up to something), but they did nothing to support his interest or sudden inclination to eye-stalking. Harry was glad on both accounts.

Harry crossed his legs ambiguously and brought his robe over the tent in his trousers. Sometimes he was very glad that he was a Wizard.

They were in Charms, and Harry was sitting at a table by himself, with Malfoy's back barely feet in front of him. Harry was ever-so-grateful that Hermione and Ron had (quite rudely) decided to sit together and leave him by himself. He couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over Malfoy's figure. His eyes fixed over his silvery-blond hair, down his long, pale neck and slender shoulders. He brought his gaze down to Malfoy's arse, and wished that he was able to see through his robes; see his undoubtedly white buttocks flat on the seat, or if he were lucky a hint of light-colored bullocks. Harry's mouth watered at the thought of Malfoy being just as hard as he was. He could imagine that beautifully pink cock erect, tragically trapped within the strains of his pants. The head would be leaking droplets of pre-cum, soaking his underwear and leaving sex-smelling stains. Or maybe Malfoy would be hard for another reason altogether; he'd be dying to piss, finger pressed to his slit to stop the onslaught of a golden flow. Harry imagined Malfoy pissing right there, calmly as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. His cock would splutter to life and begin pouring piss right out. The stream would pool his chair and run down his legs and make the floor and his trousers damp. And Harry would drop to his knees and place his mouth over the soggy material of his crotch and _suck_ the moisture into his mouth, onto his tongue, and Malfoy would beg him to take his cock out and make him come—

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry jumped at the sudden squeak of his name and he shot his gaze up. Sure enough, Professor Flitwick was standing at the front of the room, perched on top a stack of textbooks, and waving his wand at Harry in a manner that made the four-foot man seem almost intimidating.

"Er… yes, Professor?" Harry said hoarsely, then heard himself and cleared his throat.

"Were you even listening, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick accused.

Harry grimaced. "Sorry, Professor Flitwick."

The Professor shook his head, shot Harry a humorless glare, and turned his head to the other side of the room, no doubt calling on somebody else to answer whatever it was he initially asked of Harry.

Harry sighed, and when his head turned forward, he caught sight of Malfoy gazing at him.

Harry's face fired up like a torch.

Malfoy shot him a disconcerting look, turned around again, and lifted his hand into the air. Harry tensed, and wondered what Malfoy was going to pull now. Surely he wasn't going to complain about his blushing? Though if he knew the reason why Harry had blushed in the first place, perhaps he'd have a cause to after all. But Malfoy couldn't know, unless he was a _Legilimens_, which someone would have probably told Harry he was.

"Professor, may I go to the loo?"

Flitwick looked at Malfoy, nodded, then returned to his lecture.

Harry squirmed at the word "loo" coming from Malfoy's mouth.

As Malfoy moved out from between the desks and into the small parting between the two sides of the classroom, Harry dropped his head and stared fixedly at the piece of blank parchment beneath his hand. A small piece of paper fluttered just beside his quill, and he raised his head and furrowed his brows. Harry quickly turned around to search for Malfoy, who he was sure had been the one to drop the note on his desk, but Malfoy was already exiting the classroom doors.

Harry took a furtive glance around him to make sure no one was looking in his direction and cautiously unfolded the paper. It read:

_P._

_Meet me in the loo. Don't keep me waiting._

_-M._

Harry stared blankly at the note in his hand for a moment before he shot up from his seat and raised his hand.

* * *

When Harry pushed the doors to the bathroom open, it was with one hand placed firmly over his wand, and with a very cautious mind. His breathing was only slightly irregular as he'd forced himself to slow into a steady gait before he reached the end of the corridor.

For some reason, Harry expected Malfoy to have come at him with a hex as soon as he opened the door. When he moved his body further inside and let the door close behind him without being hit by a curse, he allowed himself to relax some. He placed a quick locking charm on the door (something strong enough that the average student shouldn't be able to get past without a bit of difficulty), and turned around.

Harry moved past the mirrors, not bothering to look at his reflection this time, and toward the back of the room where the urinals lined the walls. Sure enough, Malfoy was there, hunched in front of the long white bowl with his hands in front of him.

Harry, very slowly, moved forward.

The closer Harry moved forward, the more wary (and interested) he became. He noted that Malfoy was breathing weirdly, and it sounded as if he were panting. More, his body was moving strangely, almost as if he were humping the urinal.

Harry licked his lips and swallowed heavily.

He fell beside the urinal next to Malfoy and opened his mouth to ask what the hell he wanted, but Malfoy's expression made the words die in his throat. Malfoy's eyes were scrunched tightly closed, bottom lip nestled harshly beneath his upper teeth, and his face had taken on that flushed look that he'd seen only once before. Harry dropped his eyes down to Malfoy's hips and his breath caught.

Malfoy's hand was wrapped around his cock, jerking madly in tune with his fitful hips. Heavy gusts of air were pouring from his nose, and every so often a soft sound came straight from his throat.

"Malfoy?" Harry croaked.

Malfoy merely cracked open a single eye and glanced at him sideways.

"I said," he panted, "not to make me wait, Potter."

Harry swallowed again.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" It was made to come out as an outraged demand, but somehow it turned into a pathetic squeak that very nearly made Harry slap his hand over his mouth.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Potter?" Malfoy gasped.

"You're jerking off!" Harry spluttered.

Malfoy's hand ceased its movement on his cock and he turned a weary glare at Harry.

"Did you beat the Dark Lord with your ability to state the obvious?"

Harry, despite his pounding heart and rapidly filling cock, managed to scowl.

"I'm leaving, Malfoy," he snapped. He made to turn around and storm off, even despite his growing interest and arousal, but Malfoy's next words made him freeze before he could take a second step.

"I really need to piss," he said softly. "Think I can?"

Harry swallowed again and craned his neck. He shot Malfoy a distrustful look, and trying to conceive the most loathsome look he could muster, glanced down.

Malfoy's cock—and Harry was struck once again by how absolutely _perfect_ it was— was pressed against his stomach (it was then that Harry realized that Malfoy had removed his robe). Just as he'd imagined it in his countless fantasies, the dark pink tip that poked out from the layer of foreskin was leaking, a small, glistening rivulet of cream-ish cum moving down the long shaft.

Harry licked his lips and imagined, once again, himself dropping to his knees and taking that beautiful cock into his mouth.

"No way in bloody hell," Harry whispered, eyes stuck on his erection.

Harry couldn't see, but he was sure that Malfoy was smirking. "Oh, I'm sure I could."

Detecting a challenge, and never one to turn one down, Harry lifted his eyes and glared. "Prove it, then."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarms were going off, alerting him that perhaps that hadn't been the best plan of action to take. Malfoy was tricking him somehow. He had to be. Sooner or later, when he humiliated him enough, he was going to expose Harry for the perverted shirt-lifter he was. His libido, which had become a rather prominent force in Harry's life during the past couple of years, was doing a rather impressive job of throwing his common sense somewhere very, very far away. Harry thought, while Malfoy shot him a feral grin and turned towards the urinal once again, that he didn't miss it.

"You're bluffing, Malfoy," he argued as Malfoy closed his eyes and took in a steadying breath.

"Let's wager on it, then."

Harry's wariness returned to him ten-fold.

"If I manage to piss right now," Malfoy continued, eyes still closed, "You're going to let me piss on your cock."

Harry gaped. "Malfoy, that's—," he stopped, not knowing how to continue. What would he have said, anyway? That it was gross? That it was disgusting? That Malfoy was absolutely sick in the head?

Not quite, when Harry could imagine nothing less erotic than having Malfoy pee all over his cock while he stroked himself…

Malfoy must have seen the raw desire on his face because he snorted, and when Harry glanced up he quickly looked away.

"Well?" he prompted.

"And what do I get if I win?"

It was unrealistic, but Malfoy's eyes seemed to darken even further.

"I'll let you piss on _me_."

Harry bit his lip to stifle the groan that threatened to surface.

"Now be quiet would you? I need to concentrate."

Harry grunted, but nevertheless shut up.

Malfoy once again closed his eyes and his face took on a pinched, highly concentrated expression.

Moments of absolute quiet passed and Harry continued to stare at Malfoy, squirming in the discomfort of his own restricted erection. He was becoming annoyed—because obviously Malfoy wouldn't be able to—and hated that he feeling was so bloody disappointed.

Something was very, very wrong with his person.

Harry rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to tell Malfoy that pissing while so erect just wasn't going to happen, but the sound of trickling water caught his attention, and his gaze shot down.

Tiny drops of liquid gold were leaking from Malfoy's slit, falling into the white urinal far too loudly than should have been possible. Malfoy let out a heavy sigh and at once the droplets turned into a small stream.

Harry watched as Malfoy quickly placed his finger to the slit, hissed, and turned around with bright, narrowed eyes.

He gave Harry what Harry assumed was meant to have been a triumphant smirk, but looked entirely like an uncomfortable grimace.

"Drop your pants, Potter."

Harry's heart beat picked up dramatically.

He fumbled with his the belt to his trousers and then with the buttons. By the time he managed to get his pants down and kick them off, his legs were trembling in anticipation.

"Eager, aren't we?" Draco taunted, but the shakiness of his voice betrayed the intended ridicule.

"Fucking hurry up, Malfoy," Harry groaned, and his hips jutted forward.

Malfoy, with his fingers still pressed against his slit, moved forward until he and Harry were barely a foot apart, and brought both hands up to hold onto Harry's shoulders.

At once a stream of hot urine burst from Malfoy's urethra, coating Harry's stomach and cock and thighs in that strong smelling piss. Undirected, Malfoy was spilling everywhere. It was only until Harry took a step forward and their dicks brushed against each other that it fell into one spot, hitting the entirety of his upper abdomen.

Harry groaned, aroused beyond belief. Fighting the haze that swirling through his head like a heavy fog, he dropped his hand and clasped it around Malfoy's still-spurting cock and began to pump.

"Oh _Merlin_, Potter," Malfoy moaned. He dropped his head onto Harry's shoulder and began to move his hips in rhythm with Harry's fisting.

Harry was in absolute heaven. He ran the palm of his hand over the head of Malfoy's cock, and watched in complete awe as the piss coated his hand and fingers, and dribbled down his bent wrist.

Malfoy was chanting in his ear, thrusting his cock into Harry's slick hand. Harry's own erection was throbbing painfully at the lack of attention, but Harry couldn't be bothered to take his attention away from Malfoy's dick. The smell alone was driving him crazy; Harry knew that if he so much as touched his own cock he'd come in a manner of seconds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" Malfoy continued to pant in his ear. Harry increased the tempo of his stroking, fisting Malfoy's cock for all it was worth, and when he dragged the tip of his nail lightly against the leaking head, Malfoy tilted his head back and shouted. Harry wasn't surprised when no sign of semen came out; it was, after all, impossible to ejaculate while urinating. He wasn't convinced, however, that Malfoy hadn't had an orgasm. Or something relatively close to one.

Malfoy slumped on Harry's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his neck. His cock was still half-hard, snug in Harry's piss-covered hand like it belonged there. When Malfoy's breathing began to slow, Harry moved his head and placed his mouth by the pale ear.

"I want to piss on you, Malfoy."

Malfoy groaned, and ground into Harry's hand.

"Think you could?" he muttered breathily.

"I could try."

Malfoy, from somewhere, mustered up the energy to snort. "Don't disappoint me."

_I'll try not to_, Harry thought sardonically.

Malfoy pulled away, and as his cock slipped out of Harry's hand, Harry mourned the loss.

"I want you on your knees, Malfoy."

Malfoy's eyes, once again, darkened to a burnt grey.

"My, my. Who'd have Boy-Wonder was into D/s?" Regardless the snipe, Malfoy dropped himself to the floor, his trousers bound around his ankles, and Harry's cock twitched at the sight of Malfoy being knee deep in his own piss.

Harry wrapped his hand around his cock and took a step closer. He closed his eyes, squared his shoulders, and concentrated on the urge to piss.

"Any day now, Potter." He heard Malfoy mutter.

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy." He snapped back.

Harry dipped his fore and middle fingers to the underside of his cock, and softly began to rub the area where the shaft met the head. He moved his fingers in a circular rotation, and as the urge to became greater, and the undeniable pressure began to build, Harry bent his hips so his cock was angled at Draco's stomach, and let go.

At first the pressure was almost unbearable, and Harry could only get a few squirts out, but as he forced his body to relax, and he concentrated on just trying to piss, he was able to get a steady flow going.

Harry slowly opened his eyes and if not for the fact that urine was pouring from his cock, he would have came right then and there.

His piss—_his_ piss—was spraying all over Malfoy, wetting his chest and groin and stomach and hips. Harry moaned as Malfoy took everything of his. When he reached forward and placed the palm of his hands inches from Harry's cock and began to play with the yellow stream, it was almost Harry's undoing.

"Merlin, Potter," Malfoy groaned as he wrapped his long, pale fingers around Harry's thick, squirting dick.

Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head at the contact.

"I want you to watch me, Potter," Malfoy whispered throatily.

With much effort, Harry tore his eyes open and looked down. His piss' flow was already beginning to slow down, the arching stream getting smaller by the second.

Harry watched as Malfoy leaned his face in under the diminishing torrent and opened his mouth.

"Malfoy!" Harry cried, in shock and delight and arousal. His cock, while emptying rapidly, still felt torturously full.

Malfoy took Harry's piss into his mouth and let it spill over his lips and down his face. His eyes were both bright and dark as they looked up at Harry, hooded in arousal. He licked his wet, piss-covered lips and squirted the rest of the urine out of his mouth just as Harry's cock dried up.

Harry's legs, which had been barely managing to hang on, caved under his weight and fell to the floor in front of Malfoy, knees sunk in bodily fluids that he could not discern belonged to whom.

Malfoy looked at Harry and smirked, and lifted his hand to cup Harry's cheek.

Harry shuddered as the went fingertips moved to his mouth and across his lips.

"Lick yourself," Malfoy breathed.

Harry opened his mouth without complaint and let Malfoy's fingers slide in.

He moaned over Malfoy's hand, and sucked on the juicy, piss-coated digits.

"Like that, do you?"

_Yes_, Harry did.

The urine didn't have a particularly strong taste; in fact, Harry wasn't quite sure if what he was tasting was taste at all, or just the scent that was wafting into every opening of his body. It didn't matter altogether. He was sucking on Malfoy's fingers like it was a cock, and Malfoy, if his moaning was anything to go by, was enjoying it.

"Wank me," Malfoy said as he slid his hand out of Harry's mouth.

Harry eagerly obliged. He scooted closer and wrapped his hand around Malfoy's cock and quickly began to stroke. Malfoy, seconds later, followed suit, until they were each thrusting into the other's hands, desperate for release.

Malfoy was the first to be washed away by his orgasm, and the grunting-sob that broke through Malfoy's lips was all Harry needed to send him along, too.

They sat there on the floor for a long moment before Malfoy, just as last time, started to ready himself first. He pointed his wand at himself and cast _Scourgify_ four times before he was satisfied, and then at his robes, and then at the floor, and then at Harry, and then quickly pulled on his uniform.

"Unless you want someone to walk in here and catch you kneeling on the floor naked, Potter, I suggest you get dressed."

As if snapped out of a trance, Harry nodded and lifted himself from the floor. He quickly gathered his clothes and put them on, limbs still mushy from the intense orgasm, and slowly turned to walk towards Malfoy.

Malfoy, who was standing in front of the mirrors and re-arranging his hair, gave Harry a glare via his reflection and scowled. "Don't think this means anything Potter. I don't, nor will I ever, ever, like you."

Harry, despite the sudden hollowness in his chest, returned the glare and spat, "We're even, then."

"And I do hope you know the meaning of discretion, yes?"

Harry scowled. "Fuck off, Malfoy."

Malfoy looked at him for a moment longer before he snorted and turned around to leave.

Harry, feeling oddly bitter, replaced his spot in front of the mirror and was about to start the taxing task of fixing his own disheveled hair (though he doubted anything he did would do much good, or if anyone would even notice a difference), when Malfoy's voice called out from the doorway.

"Next time, don't be late, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to tell him to shove off, but Malfoy had already left the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Harry shook his head, grabbed onto the sink with both hands and leaned forward, and glanced at himself in the mirror.

Though the room had been thoroughly _Scourgified_, Harry could still smell the scent of Malfoy and piss on him as if the spell hadn't been cast at all.

_Next time._

Harry turned on the tap and began to wash his face, biting back a smile.

* * *

**The End.**

* * *

**A/N: **If you made it this far, I'm guessing that the kink either didn't phase you (in a bad way, at least) or you were able to handle it just fine. Once again, I'd love to hear what you thought! I tried to make this surreal kink as sexy as possible. Thanks for reading!


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